


Meet me by the River

by wertdifferenz



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, M/M, for now, nudity in the first chapter, tags will be updated asap, the rest is sfw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27580058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wertdifferenz/pseuds/wertdifferenz
Summary: Lance, the owner of a wonderful bed&breakfast in a small village, enjoys his life.And then Keith, his neighbor's brother, moves into his neighborhood.And Lance just can't help himself, okay? He has to get closer. Even if it's through fighting. Lots and lots of fighting.
Relationships: Adam/Curtis/Shiro (Voltron), Hunk/Shay (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello guys. 
> 
> There is tons to tell about this story, but let me try to keep it short. 
> 
> The first almost fourteen parts are already out on Instagram, where I update the SFW parts bi-weekly. This story is a collaboration with the lovely artist [ Shuideleau](https://www.instagram.com/shuideleau/) with whom I am creating not only this story and lots of art, but a bigger project which I can not talk about on Ao3 due to regulations. 
> 
> If you'd like to get more info about the story, or see the lovely cover art and other pictures Shui is doing for this project, just head to our Instagram pages! 
> 
> [wertdifferenz.art (aka me)](https://www.instagram.com/wertdifferenz.art/) and [ Shuideleau](https://www.instagram.com/shuideleau/)
> 
> And don't forget to leave a comment if you like the story! It means a lot to me! Thank you! <3

It‘s too early. 

The moon is still high in the sky, the birds aren‘t even chirping yet, no one in this godforsaken village is awake. It‘s just too early. 

And Lance is awake. 

Days like this he hates owning a guesthouse. Days when he has to get up super early to prepare a nice breakfast for the people who paid money to get a nice breakfast. Who paid money for the nice room and the nice view right towards the nice river in front of his garden and some nice shelter for their bikes and, like he said before, a fucking nice breakfast. 

An incredibly fucking nice breakfast they want to enjoy at seven in the morning. 

Gosh, days like this one right here. 

Okay, while Lance is trying to burn his skin off with a nice, way too hot shower, you guys deserve a little background check: Three years ago, Lance‘s abuelita died. 

Wait— let‘s rephrase that. 

Three years ago, Lance‘s stinking rich, freaking loaded, extremely frugal abuelita who never bought anything for herself since her husband passed away in order to give as much as possible to her children and grandchildren, died. 

And she left Lance and everyone else in their big ass family with a small fortune. 

Lance’s twin Rachel saved it in a fond, his sister Veronica invested in some shares. His big brother Luís started a company that sells the hottest surfboard designs, his parents put it in their pension, and what his thousands of cousins did is not really his business. Lance‘s biggest brother Marco and him, they bought houses. 

Marco for his family, and Lance for himself. 

A lovely, L-shaped house for himself and four to eight guests, depending on how keen they are on sharing beds. The house has two stories, a spacious living room, kitchen, dining room, a porch and Lance‘s room on the ground floor, and four guest rooms with a little bathroom each upstairs. 

Outside he has a lovely front yard with enough parking space for cars and a chestnut tree that provides lovely shade in summer, and an even lovelier backyard towards the upcountry flowing river with a dock for boats, some beds for fruit and vegetables and the most beautiful wooden terrasse Lance could build with the little money he had left from his inheritance. 

With all that, Lance provides a bed and breakfast for tourists who pass his village by bike, boat or car. They either spend a few days in the lovely nature reserves all around the village, or rest a night before going on the next tour, towards the sea a couple hours in the north, or the mountains far away in the south. 

Sixty bucks a night might seem a bit high for a room, but with the nice view, the nice garden, and the nice breakfast Lance puts on the table every day, people seem to think that it‘s totally worth it. 

And that‘s how we got here: Lance in the shower just before sunrise, trying to force his body and mind into a semi-awake state to get on his bicycle and get some fresh bread buns from the bakery in the next village.

This is literally the best life anyone could ask for. Minus getting up at crack-ass in the morning. 

When Lance is not cleaning rooms, making meals, drinking with guests or tending the garden, he enjoys the two hundred square meters towards the river that he rents from the state and uses for sunbathing, cooling off in the water or— when he‘s really bored— reading. 

How could anyone wish for something else than that? 

Anyway. Lance is showering, the hot water is burning his skin, the sun is not rising yet and he has to go out to get some bread rolls in five minutes. 

And in the middle of soaping himself up in his favorite coconut shampoo, he hears an unholy loud bang outside, followed by the uncanny sound of his cat, Blue, screaming as if all hell broke loose. 

Lance doesn‘t even flinch. He listens to the sounds, finishes rinsing off the soap and exits the shower with a sigh. His sixteen-pound whopper of a cat just loves picking fights with the local raccoons, keeping him off his— or rather her— property and making sure that they don‘t get near Lance‘s trash. 

This also leads to an awful sound scenery at ass-crack in the morning, which Lance does not appreciate when he has paying customers in his house. He could really do without her screams, or the low, brutal hisses and snarls and—

Wait, that doesn‘t sound like Blue! And it doesn‘t sound like the local raccoons either! 

Lance freezes— his hands in the middle of pushing cream over his cheeks, his hair a wet, disheveled mess, the towel around his waist loosening up— and listens. 

The telltale sound of Blue meowing, hissing and growling away is the only thing he can hear for a while. The birds outside are still asleep after all, or just silent in the proximity of a cat. The water from the nearby river is swashing against Lance‘s little dock, the strong west wind that has been blowing for the past week is swooshing through the crowns of the trees around his house, two noises that he can easily drown out after almost three years of living here. 

It‘s just Blue, and—

And—

Another hiss, another growl, another meow, and Lance knows for sure that Blue is not fighting the local raccoons this morning. Blue is fighting another cat! 

Lance forgets his face cream and the fact that he still has to shave, forgets the towel around his waist that is still way too loose, and his guests that are about to wake up to get a nice, hot shower themselves. 

Lance forgets everything because he knows that Blue will easily win every fight against the local raccoons, or the local dogs, or even the local fox that comes every now and then to get a few chickens from the neighbor. 

But a cat— yeah that‘s kind of troubling. 

Blue never had to fight a cat before. All cats in this village live on the other side of the river, and Lance‘s usual guests don‘t have any boat-cats to bring along. At least he doesn‘t accept any guests with boat-cats out of fear of startling his lovely sixteen-pound whopper. 

Blue doesn‘t need that kind of stress in her life. 

And honestly, neither does Lance. 

Nevertheless, he rushes out of his bathroom and through the living room and the door in his kitchen that leads towards the side of his property to start looking for his cat. Right outside the little door are his raised beds filled with herbs and a couple of strawberry plants he‘s growing this summer. A few steps further down where his winter garden starts are his lemon trees planted in big terracotta pots, and his oranges right behind them.

Blue isn‘t hiding between them. 

Another growl comes from the riverside, and Lance follows the sound carefully. 

He rounds the little shed he built for his gardening tools and the pretty wooden bench he put there to stare at boaters as they pass his house to anchor at the pub’s dock at the other side of the river. Passes the flower beds he filled with blue hydrangeas last year and another one with blueberries. 

From here he can finally spot the white and light-red fur of his cat on his wooden dock, and he rushes over to her. She doesn‘t pay attention to him as Lance steps up behind her, hissing at not only one, but two intruders who are standing at the end of the dock instead. 

A big, black german shepherd and a tiny, vicious-looking red cat, both pretty much strangers to Lance as he never saw them before. The two glance between themselves, then towards their opponents and back at each other, not knowing what to do.

Ironically the cat has a collar and the dog doesn‘t. Ironically the cat is ready to fight and the dog ready to teleport away, tail between its legs and ears pressed against his head in submission. 

Ironically, Lance is ready to fight those two animals as well. They are on his property after all, on his dock, and right in front of the boat of his guests. 

Who the hell are those guys even? Where did they come from, and where do they plan to go after they are done here?

Another deep growl from Blue makes not only the two intruders flinch, but Lance as well. What the hell has gotten into his sixteen pounds, usually so gentle, whopper? Did these two piss her off? Did they steal her food, or her prey, or her favorite potty spot? 

Or are they just at the wrong place at the wrong time?

The pair seems to think about that too, somehow looking puzzled over the situation they brought themselves in. As stupid as this sounds, Lance swears they are talking through looks only, hacking out a plan to get out of here. 

Why else would they choose to run towards them at the same time, confusing Blue and Lance about who to take on first? 

Why else would the red cat jump over right over Blue and scare Lance in the process, giving the dog the perfect opportunity to slip through Blue‘s blind spot, grab Lance‘s towel with his muzzle while passing him and running away? 

Why else would they make Lance stand here at asscrack in the morning, sun still down, birds still asleep, and him butt-naked?

„What the fuck?“ Lance whispers, trying to hide what he has to hide between his two hands. He has to decide between his butt or the forward part, takes the second because his back is facing his house, where his guests are sleeping, whereas some of the retired people on the other side of the river could already be wide awake.

While his body gets into a ‚try to hide as much as possible‘-pose, his mind is scrambling to catch up. Until Lance finally realizes what those two stupid animals did. Until he realizes that he should be freaking pissed off! And that‘s exactly what should piss Blue off the most!

„Blue,“ Lance hisses, the hand that‘s not trying to hide his crotch raised to point at those horrible villains, „get them!“

And, like the properly trained cat Blue is, she doesn‘t. 

Decides that now, that the strange dog and even stranger cat are off her lawn, it‘s the perfect time to circle her naked owner's legs and demand some pats. 

Only that Lance doesn't think so. If his cat won‘t help him, he will do it himself. 

Furious he stomps back to his house, ready to tackle the owner of those two mischievous animals as soon as he gets a pair of pants and maybe a shirt on his body. 

He gets to the door, opens it—

Opens it—

He opens it—

Ooooooooooooooopens it—

Wiggles the door handle like a naked man dying to get inside, realizing that… that—

„Oh no.“ 

That the door is closed. Locked. From the inside. The broken lock he wanted to change for the past three months finally biting him in his butt.

And Lance is so freaking fucked. 

„Oh no no no no no no no!“ His brain needs a minute to catch up, or is it his body? He keeps on wiggling the door handle, trying, hoping that it will change something. „No no no nonononononononono!“

Of fucking course it doesn‘t. 

„Pleeeaaase!“

Lance is left wiggling the handle like an idiot, refraining from kicking the door and possibly spraining his foot like an idiot. 

Instead he panics. „Okay,“ he whispers, leaning against the door and slipping down while ignoring the burning pain this stupid motion leaves on his naked back. „Okay okay okay okay,“ Lance repeats over and over again, trying to calm himself. „Okay!“

But nothing is okay.

Nothing is fucking okay!

He looks to his side, to where those stupid animals walked off. The dog is following the cat over the rented lawn from his direct neighbor towards the old, ugly, rotten, almost-falling-apart house from the old guy Lance buys some expensive herbs whenever he has trouble falling asleep…

… which is totally not often. Nope. Nu-uh. Only happened once, or even less!

The guy who is surprisingly very good with plumbing, the guy who has never moved his flower pots even once since Lance bought the house, the guy who never left his home towards the backdoor to look at the pretty river and the plants he doesn‘t take care of and the sun that would do his complexion a whole bunch of favors. 

The guy that has no idea Lance hid a spare key under one of said flower pots.

Lance is pretty sure— and with pretty he means 100%— that the guy never found that key and that it‘s in the same place he hid it two years ago after he successfully locked himself out the first time. 

Less naked, but just as desperate back then. 

So, Lance sneaks over his neighbor‘s lawn, thankful that neither Shiro nor one of his two husbands thought about getting some solar lights for their garden like Lance did. At least they don‘t have to see his naked butt while he runs over their property.

When Lance finally gets to the dirty patio of his neighbor, he sighs in relief. He starts searching the flower pots, one after another. It‘s been two years of not needing this fucking key after all, and Lance isn‘t quite sure which of those roughly five thousand three hundred pots hides his key. 

Lance finds a couple of spiders first, then a couple of other insects and a proper, two feet snake, swallowing a few screams and lots of curses to not wake anyone up before finally, finally, he finds a key. 

But not his. His key is round, not square, and the color is off as well. 

Fuck! 

So, Lance searches even more empty fucking flower pots. It‘s not under the biggest one, and not under the smallest one either, but finally, after going through three dozen empty and half-empty pots, almost screaming a couple of times when he sees spiders and whatnot other insects he would much rather never see again— or not have seen at all— finally he finds his fucking key.

Hold it up in the sky with a wide grin and does a little celebration dance, the exact time as the door of this old, rotten, creepy house opens with a loud squeak, and Lance gets flashed with the picture of the most gorgeous, black-haired, tall, asian man he‘s ever seen in his whole life. 

This guy is not his neighbor. 

Which isn‘t even the worst problem here, because Lance is still naked. 

So.

Freaking.

Butt out.

Balls out.

And whole ass noodle out.

Naked.

The gorgeous guy squints at him, looks him up and down, takes in Lance‘s naked body, the flower pot in one hand and the key in the other and his lovely face distorts into the worst frown Lance has ever seen.

Lance panics again. „Uhm—“ Tries to babble, talk himself out of it, but the sun isn‘t even thinking about touching the horizon yet, and the moon is still out, and the people in the village are still asleep, and Lance didn‘t even get the chance to finish his morning routine before locking himself out of the house and he‘s—

He‘s kind of speechless...

The traitorous dog and the cat push through the legs of the guy to get inside the house, almost running them over in their quest to get away from Blue‘s sleeping figure.

„Kosmo?“ the guy gasps. „Red?“ The intruders— probably this guy's pets— don‘t answer him. A second later the tell-tale crunch of dry food between canine-teeth roams through the walls of this guys‘ house, and he turns back to Lance. „And who,“ he raises an eyebrow, looking everywhere but Lance‘s eyes, „are you?“

Rude.

That guy is a god on freaking earth, but not with that attitude! It makes Lance‘s rapidly beating heart come to a complete stop and his mind sober up in less than a second. He frowns right back at him, his go-to reaction to rude people, even if he shouldn‘t interact at all, you know, naked like he is. 

Lance holds up his spare key as if that was any explanation before turning around and marching back towards his own house, ignoring the stare that‘s burning into his back— or rather on his butt. 

Only when he finally closes the door in his kitchen behind him he allows himself to have a minor breakdown. 

„Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god!“ 

Yeah, minor. 

Lance slides down the door, his naked ass hitting the floor. He‘s glad that he mopped the whole kitchen yesterday. While his butt starts to freeze on the tiles, Lance runs his fingers through his hair, breathing hard. „What the hell?“ 

It‘s too early for all of this. 

Too fucking early for any of this. 

And Lance still has to get those stupid bread rolls.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They shall meet again. 
> 
> And bicker.

Lance waves the couple that just checked out of one of his rooms goodbye. They are really nice people, like to come here at least once a year on their way towards the sea in the north. A three-hour trip awaits them now, and Lance gave them some tips to avoid those nasty construction works on the highways they have to take. 

Blue is tiptoeing around his legs, pressing her body against him to get a few pets. Lance lifts her and presses his face into her fur, relishing in her soft purr for a second before scratching her under her neck, her favorite spot. 

He looks around the garden, takes his time checking out the flowers he planted a few days ago, as well as the blueberries that are blooming nicely and the lavender that‘s the latest hit among the bumblebees. Whenever he looks at the plant, all the long strands are bobbing up and down from the insects that land on them.

The door on his neighbor’s property closes with a loud bang, and Lance knows Shiro must be getting ready for a morning run. He‘s the only one who refuses to close the door like a normal person, much to the dismay of his two husbands, Curtis and Adam. 

Half of their property is fenced off by a six-feet tall hedge, so Lance walks around his house, towards the river where a couple of roses don‘t prevent him from looking into Shiro‘s yard. Blue can‘t be bothered to walk, making herself comfortable and dozing off in his arms. 

Shiro spots him as he takes up some stretches against the wooden fence he has towards the river, something Lance knows his husbands don‘t like either. Adam and Curtis must be a way for him to do all this. He quickly drops his leg back on the floor as he spots Lance, acting as if that didn‘t just happen. „Hey, Lance!“

Lance shakes his head. He won‘t snitch on him, doesn‘t even need to. The dirty spots on the fence where he put his shoe against speak for themselves. „Hey, Shiro,“ he replies instead, taking Blue‘s paw to wave at him with a grin. „What‘s up?“

Shiro shrugs, gesturing the usual. He places his hands on his hips and looks around his garden, looking for something to talk about when his eyes fall on the house next to his and he turns back at Lance with a smile. „My brother just moved into the house next to us,“ he explains, pointing over his shoulder. 

„Wait—“ Lance‘s heart drops into his pants. „That‘s your brother?“ 

About two thousand curse words run through Lance‘s head, all of them referring to the embarrassing scene the pets of that ass produced the day before. Lance spent the whole morning trying to keep that memory out of his mind, and the rest of the afternoon wondering if he should dig his own grave already. 

Because he will drop dead on the spot if he has to face that guy again. 

Shiro doesn‘t seem to notice Lance‘s mental freak out. Instead, his grin widens, tinted with a hint of surprise. „Yeah, have you met him already? He didn‘t mention you, just some naked weirdo.“

Just so—

Lance huffs. Some naked weirdo. As if that wasn‘t that stupid idiot‘s fault!

„You could say so,“ he answers, his sweet mood from the morning gone. Blue blinks up at him, sensing his distress. But there’s nothing she can do. As long as Lance doesn‘t have to face said brother until he forgets what happened, or until Lance dies, all is good. 

The door one house over slams shut. Lance‘s whole body flinches together as he realizes that it wasn‘t Shiro‘s door, but—

„Hey, Keith!“ Shiro shouts towards the mop of black hair that walks on the path of the overgrown grass towards the little wicket gate that Lance never noticed until now. The light wood against the white-colored fence tells Lance that it must be fairly new though. 

But that doesn‘t matter. 

Lance panics. His heart drops through his pants and onto the ground while Blue wiggles herself out of Lance‘s too strong grip. „Oh, no,“ Lance tries to chuckle, „no no no, you don‘t have to—“

Shiro doesn‘t listen. Instead, he winks his brother over, who crosses the distance with the same frown that he graced Lance with yesterday. As he‘s getting closer Lance notices that his hair is not only a mop, but a disheveled mess. He‘s wearing sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt that has more holes than fabric, and the dark bags under his eyes fit perfectly to the sour mood he displays. 

„What?“ he grunts, closing the gate behind him with another loud bang before facing Shiro. His frown only deepens as he realizes who‘s standing next to his brother, and with the „Oh, it‘s you.“ 

Shiro ignores the sour undertone in Keith‘s voice; maybe he doesn‘t even notice. Social stuff is sometimes too much for him. He leans on one of the wooden poles of the fence, resting his head on his hand as he talks to Keith. „Lance told me you met already.“

„Met?“ Keith scoffs, pointing an accusing finger over the fence and right into Lance‘s chest. „This psycho was running around my yard butt-naked.“

Ps—

Psycho???

Shiro falters, his smile switching out for a confused scowl. „What?“

Psycho, as if he wanted Keith to see his naked body. As if he wanted to get locked out and molested by Keith‘s pets. As if he wouldn‘t rather have spent his morning in peace and quiet instead of trying to erase memories he will probably never forget. That will probably make the round around the village and straight back to him before the sun sets. 

Yeah, Lance won‘t have it. He leans over the fence, the wood pressing into his chest as he reaches out to copy Keith‘s stupid move. „His stupid pets stole my towel!“ he shouts, more to Keith than to Shiro, more an accusation than an explanation. 

Shiro looks between the two of them, totally lost. „Towel?“

Keith doesn't back down either. Doesn't even seem to understand that Lance‘s demise and the naked visit on Keith‘s porch is partly— if not all— his fault. „My pets are not stupid!“ he growls. „Why would you go out in nothing but a towel in the first place?“

Shiro jerks his eyes to Lance. „What?“

Yeah, okay. Maybe that wasn‘t the smartest move. He has six different bathrobes he could have worn instead and a bunch of clothes that wouldn‘t have gotten ripped of his body, but he was fucking worried, okay? „Because,“ he dares to growl right back, „your stupid pets bullied my cat!“

‚Bullied?‘ Shiro mouths to himself. He lifts his arms to his hair, turning to whoever is speaking with a lost face. 

To Lance‘s amusement Keith steps back. He looks surprised as if no one ever dared to speak against him like that. As if no one ever used the fucking growl right back at him, and as if no one ever disrespected his pets. 

The last one is a mistake though. 

Keith walks right up to the fence, the wood ripping a new hole into his shirt as he reaches over to grab Lance. If it wasn‘t for Shiro‘s quick reflexes, Lance would get a good whooping right now. 

Keith struggles in Shiro‘s hold, ignoring his brother‘s pleas to turn it off. „My pets don‘t bully random stupid cats, idiot!“

Lance should learn from his neighbor’s outbreak. 

Lance does not learn from his neighbor’s outbreak. 

„Don‘t call my Blue stupid, you asshole!“ he hisses right back. One look from Keith is enough to tempt him to jump over this stupid fence, but the fact that Shiro is dragging Keith away from him, and the fact that the only thing Lance would achieve by climbing this fence is splitting his balls in half, keeps him from being this kind of reckless. 

It doesn‘t keep him from muttering a couple more curses towards Keith. 

The final straw is a nice comparison between his new neighbor and a good-for-nothing blighter, which makes Shiro send a glare towards Lance that could make him drop dead not once, but at least ten times. Holy shit. 

„Language!“ His voice plummets over the river. A few birds flutter away in panic, the whole landscape growing silent. Only Lance‘s heart beats loudly, a few memories of his abuelita screaming like that coming to his mind and making him almost wet his pants. 

Lance swallows as he locks eyes with Keith. They come to a silent agreement to shut the fuck up, so their families don‘t have to identify their bodies for the police in a couple of weeks. 

Shiro sighs, the happy mood from earlier completely gone. „I think it‘s time for both of you to get back to your houses,“ he murmurs, completely defeated. He doesn‘t even look slightly exhausted from holding his brother back with one arm, and Lance doesn't know what he can do with the one that‘s not made of flesh.

He gulps, takes a step back. 

Shiro‘s eyes are fixed on Keith, who‘s still scowling in his direction. He pushes him back, makes Keith tumble over the grass and further away from the fence. „Go,“ he insists, and with little hesitance, Keith finally turns around. 

Lance doesn't see how he vanishes into his house, too occupied with hiding behind his own kitchen door. Holy shit. 

Holy shit. 

He never saw Shiro so angry. And all because that stupid prick trained his stupid animals to bully people. 

Lance won‘t accept this. Sure, this village is full of shitty people, criminals, narcissists and all the other stuff you don‘t want to see on a daily basis. But they are on the other side of the river. Far enough away that he can forget them while he‘s in his own little paradise. 

This side of the village is his nice haven. Full of people who don‘t fit the typical village criteria, who don‘t wear the same boring haircut and don‘t live the same boring lives as everyone else. This side of the river is nice. 

And it‘s going to stay nice. Even if Lance‘s advances have to turn from passive to aggressive. 

He will not back down to a bully!

Even if he‘s super hot.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's meet Hunk. 
> 
> And his problem.

Sometimes the hot shower, two cups of coffee, and a bike ride right before sunrise are not enough to force the sleepiness out of Lance‘s body. The air is crisp as he passes two cornfields, avoiding a few bumps on the road that no one has cared to repair for ages. 

Lance yawns, loud and drawn out, not caring if anyone hears him. There is no one around after all, besides a few birds in the trees above him, and a deer or two on the meadow behind the cornfields. 

Even if it‘s early and his body is not up to the task right now, he loves moments like this. The fog above the fields gives this morning a mysterious atmosphere as if he was driving through a kingdom of fairies. A soft breeze that rustles through the crowns of the trees in the distance completes the picture and makes a pleasant shiver run down his spine. 

He‘ll never regret moving to this place. 

Lance is a bit earlier than usual. It‘s not as dark outside as it is during the night, but the sun is still far from rising, and he can see the stars above him. A few familiar constellations light him the way until he arrives at the sign of the next village, where some street lights are flickering faintly, but strong enough to drown the picture in the sky out. 

In the next village are only a few houses that already have some lights on. Lance knows a couple, mainly because he passes them on the road when he‘s able to start his day a little bit later than today, or because they turn up at the bakery he‘s headed to as well before they drive to work. 

He comes to an intersection, both roads going around the lake that‘s right behind this village, snaking through a couple more places before connecting again about ten kilometers to the north. Lance turns right, passes a small bridge that goes over the river, and takes the first little path behind it. 

He comes to a yellow brick stone house, with a large window and an old, wooden door that‘s colored with green paint. In front of the window are some flower pots with the prettiest sunflowers, as well as some parking space for cars and bike rack where Lance leaves his bicycle. 

Right above the door is a big, wooden sign that tells everyone who‘s only visiting this area that they are in the right place for the best pastries, cakes, and bread in the country. Hunk‘s bakery stands there in big, bold letters, matching the personality of the owner. 

Lance enters the little shop with a yawn, ignoring the bell right above him and walks over to the counter to lean against it. The displays that are usually filled with sweet cakes, muffins, and everything else your heart could wish for are still empty, just like the display behind the cash register where all the bread gets usually stowed. 

Hunk pops his head through the door that leads to the actual baking room in the back, grinning ear to ear as he sees his friend perched on his counter. „Wow, you‘re early,“ he chuckles, walking over to get Lance a cup with some fresh coffee. „We‘re not even done with the first batch yet.“ 

„I don‘t mind waiting.“ Lance leans up and thanks Hunk for the coffee before walking over to the little table in the corner of the room and taking a seat. „I finished preparing everything for breakfast, and my guests won‘t get up before seven.“ 

Hunk hums quietly, taking a box from under the counter and getting to the big shelf right from Lance, where several goods are displayed for customers to buy. „Why are you here already then?“

„I just couldn‘t sleep,“ Lance shrugs, placing his cup on the table and getting up to help Hunk sort some packs of flour and milk into the shelf.

The shop may be called a bakery, but Hunk pretty much offers everything you‘d find in a supermarket as well. Many people in the village are too old to drive to the next bigger city to shop for their groceries, or don‘t even own a car to go there, to begin with. Hunk offering not only food but stuff for cleaning, books, and newspapers, and even things you need for fishing, helps many people survive without having to beg friends to drive them to the city every week. 

Lance sighs as he finishes setting up the flour and a couple of backs of baking powder as well. „I got a new neighbor,“ he finally spills, raising an eyebrow as Hunk doesn‘t even bat an eye. 

„Yeah, I already heard that Shiro‘s brother moved into that old house,“ he answers with a grin. „Is he nice?“

Lance can‘t help but scowl. „No.“ He takes a pack of sugar and puts it into the shelf with too much force, almost breaking it. He treats the next one a bit more gently after a scolding look from Hunk, but his mood stays just as sour. „He‘s a huge asshole.“ 

„Is he an asshole to you, or to everyone?“ Hunk asks though it sounds like he already knows the answer. 

„I bet to everyone but Shiro.“

Hunk huffs, a huge grin spreading over his lips. „I bet only to you because you ran around naked.“ 

Lance can‘t stop the load groans straight out of his chest. He drops the last package of sugar into the shelf before crouching down and hiding his face in his hands. „You heard about that?“ 

„Yeah,“ Hunk chuckles, „it made the round.“ He pats Lance on the back as if that would help him feel better. Especially when Hunk explains, „I think the whole village knows. They think you are already sleeping with him, even though he just moved here.“ 

Yeah, Hunk might as well kill him on the spot. 

Lance looks at his friend, not having the strength to get up again. „I am not sleeping with him,“ he insists, though Hunk‘s face tells Lance that he‘s not believing him. „His pets were fighting with Blue,“ Lance continues, „and when I went to check on her they stole the towel I was wearing.“ A sigh wrecks through his body. „And then I locked myself out of the house.“ 

„Ah, and the spare key is on his porch,“ Hunk concludes. 

„Well, not anymore.“ As if that would change the past. But at least Lance is learning from his mistakes, keeping the key under one of the decorative stones he has placed in his garden. 

A door from inside the bakery slams shut, and someone descends the stairs that lead up to the main house with loud steps. A second later Shay appears in the door, looking at Hunk with a pout and only gracing Lance with a smile as she passes him. 

„Good morning, Lance.“ 

„Morning, Shay,“ he answers from the ground, watching how Shay walks outside the front door, slams that shut as well before picking up a watering can from the corner, and starting to water the flowers in front of the shop. 

That… was something. 

Lance sends a questioning look at Hunk. „What‘s up with her?“ 

A sigh is an answer to Shay‘s weird behavior. Usually, she‘s light in her step, even so early in the morning, greeting everyone with a smile, humming a song under her breath, kissing her husband at every chance she gets, and not—

Not this grumpy.

„I don‘t know,“ Hunk shrugs, getting back to filling the shelves with some cans. „I really don‘t know. We didn‘t fight or anything, I didn‘t miss a birthday or an anniversary, and literally nothing changed between us. But suddenly she‘s—“ he raises his hands and drops them in defeat. „Just really cold.“

Yeah, that honestly makes no sense at all. „Why do you think it‘s your fault then?“

„Because she‘s only so cold to me and not anyone else.“

„Huh.“ Lance takes everything back. He feels just as helpless as Hunk though, scrambling for something to say. „Did you talk to her?“ 

„I tried, but she says that nothing is wrong. I hope it‘s just a phase or something. I can‘t—“ The door opens and Hunk nearly drops the can of soup he’s holding. Shay comes back inside with a sour look on her face. „… and then,“ Hunk coughs out, „Shiro said that he‘ll go on a trip and try to bring his husbands, but apparently Adam was not having it since he‘s got a lot of work himself.“

Lance bites down a smile. „Yeah, Adam always has so much to do.“ He plays along, fully grinning when Shay walks around the corner into the bakery. „Nice save,“ he whispers, getting a bump to his stomach as a warning. 

„Shut up,“ Hunk hisses. They work in silence until Shay stomps upstairs, only daring to speak when she slams another door shut. „I don‘t know if apologizing for something I don‘t even know I did is the right thing to do.“

„If she finds out that you have no clue what you are apologizing for, she‘ll be even more pissed.“ And she‘s scary enough like this. Lance really doesn‘t want to know how an angry Shay looks like. „Sorry bud.“ 

Lance wishes he could do more for them, but it seems to be a problem Hunk and Shay have to work out on their own. They are the dream couple of literally five villages though, so he‘s sure they‘ll manage. 

„Thanks for listening anyway.“ Hunk’s eyes move to a picture right behind the cash register, which shows him and Shay on their wedding day in the middle of friends and family. A smile appears on his lips, the photo giving him strength. „I guess I‘ll just have to wait it out and see.“ 

The timer in the other room rings, and on cue a heavenly smell spreads through the shop. Hunk leaves the rest of the groceries with Lance who keeps on putting them onto the shelves until Hunk comes with two big batches of hot bread rolls. He leaves them in the little baskets of the rack behind him before turning back, his go-to customer smile on his lips. 

„So,“ he resumes, „what do your guests want to eat today?“


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fighting. Again. Wuhu! 
> 
> But it's just so much fun, isn't it!

It‘s almost too hot for lunchtime in the middle of May, but Lance doesn't mind. With an iced tea in one and the latest gardening magazine in his other hand, he enjoys the warmth and tans on one of the sunbeds in his garden. 

His house is empty for once, a nice, two-day breather before the crazy summer season starts. Usually, he‘s fully booked from early April to late September, and even during the winter months, a few traveler or nature enthusiasts dribble in. 

So, a free day gets fully appreciated. 

Lance finished cleaning all four rooms before lunch, thanks to some good planning and a washer dryer that works even quicker than him. He has a delivery with groceries set up for the afternoon, and he has to take care of his garden when it‘s not so hot anymore, but for now, he‘s free. 

A sip from his drink, an article about rambler roses and the decision to get one for his trees later, he sees Shiro coming from his house, his little brother in tow. 

That‘s it for a nice break in the sun. 

Lance groans as he slaps his magazine shut, slumping in his seat and blowing bubbles into his tea. He watches how Shiro explains to his brother something about plants, or the garden, or whatever. He can‘t hear them from his sunbed, and he‘s not really interested in listening to them either. 

Totally not interested. 

He‘s just sitting here, brooding and getting iced tea all over his face as a bubble grows too big and plops. And then Keith walks over to his own, wilting garden, taking a long, confused look over his pitiful, dying plants. And— 

Lance can‘t help it. He just can‘t help it, okay? 

He has to tell him off. 

The magazine flutters to the ground, the empty glass lands on the broad armrest of the sunbed, and for a moment Lance is so ready to jump over the fence and teach Keith a good lesson about not killing innocent lifeforms that he forgets what he‘s wearing. 

Or rather what he‘s not wearing. No shirt, no shoes, no real pants unless short swim trunks suddenly count as one. This scene resembles the one that happened a week ago too much for Lance‘s comfort, and… you know… He doesn‘t need even more stupid rumors about him and his sex life with stupid strangers. 

He hurries inside, through his winter garden and the living room, where he fetches some slippers so he won‘t get the carpet dirty. He just cleaned after all. A shirt and some proper shorts later and one would think Lance would finally realize just how stupid he‘s acting. 

He won‘t though, so he stomps back outside to lean over Shiro‘s fence and scream all across his yard over to Keith. „Oh my god,“ and he’s sure half of the village is getting some exclusive tinnitus from his screech, „you don‘t even know how to water your plants properly?“ 

Keith turns on his heels, the frown Lance has been anticipating on his face as he looks Lance up and down before screaming right back. „Would you shut up?“

Well, of course not. 

„Would you stop killing your garden?“ Lance counters, a winning grin already on his face because he knows he has the upper hand on this one. „How can you not know that your flowers need to be watered every day, mullet?“ A gasp follows the nickname, and Lance feels his stomach flip at the reaction. „And the veggies over there—“ 

Keith tries to find whatever Lance is talking about, turning in the wrong direction and looking at some old twigs and dead leaves instead of said vegetables. 

„To your left, dumbass.“ Lance rolls his eyes, diligently waiting until Keith finally sees what he‘s talking about. „Do you even know you are growing zucchini? Do you even know what a zucchini is?“ 

He doesn‘t wait for Keith‘s answer, knows from the sour look on his face that it won‘t be something nice anyway. 

„Also,“ he adds, just because he can, „your grass looks like shit! You have a water pump and all the shit you need to not kill your garden, so how about you go and not kill your garden?“ 

Lance can almost see some question marks appear over Keith‘s head, and chuckles to himself when that idiot walks around to search for that water Lance spoke of. He‘s pretty sure that he saw a hose somewhere in the middle of that meadow Keith calls a garden, though it‘s hidden under three feet of grass and flowers by now.

There‘s no way Keith will find it, and even if he does. „Not now, you idiot!“ Lance reprimands him. „It‘s way too hot to water your shit now! Man, the water will evaporate before it hits the fucking ground. That‘s just a fucking waste of water.“ 

If looks could kill, Lance would have died about five times by now, but the glace Keith sends him right now is by far the best and worst he has to offer. „Not everyone has the time for a spick and span garden,“ he shouts, stomping up to his fence, the only thing that keeps him from throwing a punch at Lance. „Don‘t you have a job?“

Valid question, honestly, but the answer is obvious. Lance points towards his house behind him. „This is my job, shithead!“ He watches how his answer confuses Keith only more, before deciding to kill the bird. „Can you read?“

„Can I-“ Keith takes a deep breath, pinches his eyes together and probably thinking about murder. Lance waits for his outburst, more screaming and curses, but it doesn‘t come. Instead, Keith looks over to his brother‘s porch where Shiro is leaning against a wall with an amused smile. „What the hell?“

„Then read a book about gardening, idiot,“ Lance snarls. „Or at least get some help from your brothers-in-law, and not from your brother!“ 

„Hey!“ Shiro pipes up, reminding Lance and Keith that he’s standing on his porch between them. He directs a pout at Lance, crossing his arms over his chest and mirroring his brother. „I know some things about gardening!“ 

„No, you don‘t,“ Lance shouts back, raising an eyebrow at him. It‘s all Shiro needs to remember the time he managed to set the kitchen on fire trying to plant some basil. 

Just one of the too many stories. 

Shiro shuts up, staring at the ground and scratching his neck in defeat. He didn‘t manage to set his garden on fire yet, even though it got close a couple of times already. But those close calls got him banned from even thinking of gardening, which includes teaching his brother. 

Keith doesn‘t seem to know the full story about Shiro‘s basil accident. If Lance wouldn‘t hate him so much, he‘d love to tell him over a drink or two. But alas…

The uncomfortable silence between the three draws out for too long. Lance is scrambling for some insult, some threat, something to piss Keith off. A glance over Keith‘s property gives him a thousand things to talk about, like the old wooden planks on his house, or how the forest which should be behind Keith‘s fence is already taking over half of the garden. 

In the end, Lance opts for something that‘s very important to him. „Also,“ he shouts, gaining Keith‘s attention again, „don‘t you dare to touch your cherry tree!“

Keith turns around, looking the trees behind him up and down, clearly not knowing which one Lance means. „What do you even want from my cherry tree?“

„Cherries, asshole!“ Lance scoffs as if it wasn‘t obvious already. „I want cherries!“

„Then how about you get your own tree?“ 

„How about no?“ 

With that last push, Lance retreats, knowing fully well that Keith needs some time to recover. He doesn‘t turn as he walks back to his own porch, getting inside to switch out of the stuffy clothes and back into his swim trunks. 

As he gets back outside, Keith is back on Shiro‘s porch, getting handed a cup of coffee while spitting out one curse after another. „What the fuck is wrong with him?“

Lance grins to himself, can‘t make himself shut up and enjoy this victory in silence. „I can hear you!“ 

„Good!“ Keith shouts right back, as well as a few more, carefully chosen words that Lance will not repeat. 

With a never known satisfaction, Lance returns to his sunbed. He gathers the magazine off the ground and turns back to the page about rambler roses, deciding to get two instead of just one. 

He listens to how Keith goes on and on about him, complaining to his brother why he wanted Keith to move into this rotten neighborhood, and that he will kill Lance at some point or another. 

Oh, Lance can‘t wait. It‘s so fucking on!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't we all need that friend who ownes a bakery and gives us great ideas?

The birds are chirping, the bees are humming, and Lance is so fucking deep in love with Hunk‘s garden that he considers marrying it. People married stones already, and ships and ghosts and whatnot, so he can marry a nice garden, right?

„Gosh,“ Lance sighs, walking on the little path Hunk mowed through his meadow and sniffing at a couple of flowers here and there, „I could die here.“ He twirls around like a barbie princess in one of those movies his niece makes him watch whenever he‘s around. „I love it.“ 

„Really?“ Hunk chuckles, shaking his head at him. „We just let it grow out.“ 

Lance‘s grandma told him once that the people with the kindest hearts have the prettiest gardens without even trying to. Maybe that‘s why Hunk and Shay‘s garden looks so amazing. 

Maybe that‘s why he spends at least three hours a day in his own garden trying to keep it pretty… And shouting insults at his new neighbor certainly doesn‘t help. 

Lance gets back on the bench Hunk is sitting on. It‘s right next to some stone steps that lead into Hunk‘s house, surrounded by lots of potted plants and a small bed for their cat Sunny. This place is so different from his own, wild, almost rustic, filled with love and patience and just generally good vibes. 

„Yeah,“ Lance huffs as he sits down, „that‘s what I like about it. It‘s nature at its finest: a pretty meadow, lots of flowers, a billion insects you are saving every day, and you get lots of honey from your neighbor.“

Hunk rolls his eyes at him, repeating what he already explained a thousand times in the last couple of years. „We get honey from her because we feed her pigs with our leftovers.“ 

Lance shrugs. „Still.“ His eyes move over the garden once more, spotting a patch of yellow and orange flowers right in front of their bench he hasn‘t seen before. „Those are new.“ 

Hunk follows his gaze and breaks into a smile. „Oh, yeah. I planted them because I liked the color, but I didn‘t think to check the meaning behind them.“ He chuckles to himself, shaking his head and muttering a few things like an old man. 

Gosh, does the village make that out of you?

Hunk notices Lance‘s stare, realizes that he hasn‘t actually explained anything with his laughter and jumps up to walk towards the flowers. „This here is butterfly weed, which means something like ‚get out of my face‘. And the buttercups here mean someone is childish.“ 

He runs his fingers over the delicate petals, letting a bumblebee land on him and guiding it in the right direction. If Hunk and Shay weren‘t highly gifted bakers, Lance is sure they would have made some amazing gardeners as well. 

Hunk chuckles to himself before pointing at some wildflowers that are growing all over the place. „These here are the best though. You give them to your enemy as a declaration of war.“ 

Which is already hilarious itself. But knowing that those flowers are literally all over the meadow right behind Lance‘s property and every other piece of land in this area kind of speaks volumes about the nature of his village. 

And maybe even him, because—

„Interesting,“ Lance murmurs before taking a long sip from his coffee. „I think you‘re the only one who knows their meaning though,“ he grins and nods towards the flowers Hunk just touched. „How are they called again?“ 

„Tansies.“ 

„Interesting.“ Lance wants to take another sip but notices the cup is empty and carefully places it on the bench. He doesn‘t see Hunk‘s raised eyebrow until he looks up to crack another joke. „What?“ 

„You‘re getting creepy.“ 

Lance recoils. „I‘m not.“ Doesn‘t look like Hunk believes him. Alright, topic change. „How‘s Shay?“

Hunk makes a weird face. „Let‘s not talk about Shay.“

Oh. 

Oh, damn. 

Alright, alright, alright. Topic change. „How‘s Pidge?“

Hunk sighs. „Away on a business trip,“ he explains with a shrug. „So probably angry.“ 

Ah, Pidge and her anger issues. „I don‘t get it,“ Lance murmurs. „She works at her dream job, has lots of time off, gets paid better than we combined, and still gets grumpy when she has to go on a business trip to a super cool place once a year.“ He counts those points on his fingers, throwing his hands in the air in defeat when he‘s done. 

Hunk gives him an amused smile. „She just prefers to stay in her cave.“ 

Yeah, but— „It‘s an all-inclusive trip, paid by her company.“

Her company is one of those that should be operating from Silicon Valley. Pidge explained to him once what she does there, but used so many technical terms that he needed a couple of weeks to not feel like a total idiot in her presence. It didn‘t even help to look the company up because they use the same lingo on their website, which pushed Lance back into the ‚I am stupid‘-lake. 

So, yeah. Pidge is smart, Pidge has a good job, Pidge prefers to work from her home. 

All things Lance can understand, but the business trips? If she doesn‘t want to go, Lance sure as hell won‘t mind. Maybe he should offer it next time. 

„You prefer to stay in your house then visit your family as well,“ Hunk counters with a grin.

Lance frowns at him. „That‘s completely different.“ 

„How?“ 

„Well, first of all, I live in paradise.“ He nods towards Hunk’s garden, the meadow behind it, and the forest between their two villages in the distance. „Plus, I can‘t leave the house alone, I got to tend to guests, and hiring someone is too expensive.“ 

It‘s a good point. Taking a week off is not only a huge pain in the ass to organize, but also creates a big hole in his wallet. From spring to autumn he makes most of the money to stay afloat during winter, and even just one week makes a big difference. 

„But,“ Hunk tries, „it‘s your family.“ 

Lance rolls his eyes. „I see what you are doing there, but unless my family pays me, I‘m not coming.“ 

„Wait.“ Hunk sits up and looks at him with a raised eyebrow. „Do you charge them when they visit?“

„Of course not.“ „Hunk, I‘m not—“ „What is it with you not believing me today?“

„Dunno,“ Hunk chuckles, „it‘s something in your eyes that‘s planning mischief. I‘ve known you for four years, dude. I know when something‘s up. I just gotta find out what it is.“ 

Ah. Shit. 

„It‘s nothing,“ Lance tries to argue, but Hunk just waves him off.

„Probably your neighbor.“ 

Damn right it is.

Hunk really knows him too well. 

Time for evasive maneuvers. „I‘m leaving now.“ Lance gets up from his seat and takes his cup to drop it off in the kitchen before running away.

„Then you‘re not getting cake.“ 

Lance falters. Gives Hunk a once over to see if the cake is a lie. „What kind of cake?“ 

„Cherry-crumble.“ Hunk grins, joining Lance on the way to the kitchen. „Your favorite.“

Damn right it is.

Hunk just knows him too well. 

Hiding a couple of happy tears Lance follows Hunk idly through the house. He just can‘t say no to a good cherry-crumble.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seems like not all of his new neighbors are so bad after all. 
> 
> At least the furry ones.

With a big garden comes lots of work. 

Lots and lots and lots of work. Whenever Lance is not watering the plants, or cutting them, or making sure that no mean insects are eating them, he‘s trying to tackle the weed that manages to sneak it‘s way into his beds whenever he‘s not looking. 

Honestly, his garden is more work than his house and all his guest rooms combined. But he loves his garden, so the work is usually lots of fun. It’s his pride, his hobby, and one of the reasons he gets five stars in almost every customer review.

So, he loves his garden. It makes him able to demand sixty bucks a night. Makes him able to live off this business and pay his loans. Plus, it‘s always fucking nice to lay on a sunbed, drink a cocktail that he definitely did not pour from a can like a heathen, and enjoy a book, or a magazine, or something else that his visitors left behind. 

Lance loves his garden. Loves everything about it. 

Everything besides weeds. 

Gosh, those fucking weeds. 

Two years ago he put together a couple of nice beds. Some curbstones, some healthy soil, a little bit of mulch, and lots of nice looking plants. A few hydrangeas, a couple of blueberry bushes, a bunch of heavenly scented roses, and whatever else the hot gardener Lance was crushing on back then told him to get. 

And it looks so freaking good. Good enough that he was able to raise his room prices, good enough that the posh neighbors from across the river got so jealous they copied him, good enough to be worth all the fucking work all year round. 

Even picking those fucking weeds. 

Blue is no help to him, just like always. She‘s more of a motivational factor anyway, looking all cute rolled up in a raised bed and watching him work his ass off. She gets a few pets every now and then, the mud stains on her head not bugging her the slightest as she‘s purring away. 

Another reason why the beds were a fucking great idea: Blue loves them. 

And if Blue loves them, Lance loves them...

After finishing up the fifth of six beds on the ground, Lance takes a quick break. Sits on the floor, leaning back against the wood of the raised bed Blue is lurking in and looking over to the river. It‘s in the middle of the week, so almost everyone in the village is at work, or at school, or at whatever pre-lunch activity all those pensioners are going to. Bingo or some shit. 

What he’s trying to say: It‘s quiet. And that‘s always nice. 

The birds are chirping in the trees by the river, a couple of bugs fly around and get to work on the new flowers that started to bloom this week, and the red neighbor’s cat is out in the field trying to catch a white butterfly. Everything is—

Wait.

Lance does a double-take on the cat, who doesn‘t seem like it noticed him sitting here. He‘s not particularly hidden, but with her focus on that damn butterfly, he might as well be invisible. 

He holds his breath as he watches her, not wanting to scare her away. He‘s not a monster after all, plus she‘s really cute to look at. From the corner of his eye, he can see how Blue watches her too, more amused than hostile. As if she didn‘t mind a stranger in her garden. 

That’s new. 

„You‘re friends now, or what?“ Lance murmurs to Blue. He regrets saying something when the other cat‘s eyes— her name was ‚Red‘, right?— zoom in on him. But she doesn‘t even pretend to mind him, getting back to the butterfly immediately and keeping on failing to catch him. 

Alright. That‘s something. 

Lance turns towards his own cat, pointing at her accusingly. „You befriended her, didn‘t you?“ 

Blue just looks at his finger and rubs her cheek on it instead of answering, making Lance huff a laugh. 

„Of course you did.“

Just like she befriended the cats from the other side of the river or the dog that lived here before Shiro, Curtis and Adam moved into his neighborhood, or even the local raccoon after the fiftieth fight Lance had to break up between them. 

Right before Lance can ask her if she befriended the dog from that stupid guy as well, said dog trots around the corner, a tennis ball in his mouth, and a new playmate set on his mind. He drops the ball in front of Lance and looks at him expectantly. 

„You‘re Kosmo, right?“ Lance murmurs, letting him sniff his hand before reaching out to scratch him behind his ears. He nods towards the cat who‘s still chasing her heart out. „And you were Red? Do you like sneaking out? I bet you do.“ 

He might or might not use his baby-voice on the two of them. He might or might not think about adopting those two right now as well. 

Who knows. 

Kosmo nudges the ball with his nose, putting on his probably best puppy eyes that make Lance‘s heart melt. But he got principles, and he‘s not some stupid guy‘s dog‘s play-whore. 

„Go ask your owner to play with you,“ he grunts, pointing towards their home, repeating the action over and over again when the dog won’t move. „Kosmo, go.“

Kosmo doesn‘t go. 

He just tilts his head, nudges the ball again, lets a desperate little whine drop from his mouth and—

„Oh come on,“ Lance gives in, „you are too damn cute.“ 

He picks up the ball and holds it out, watching how Kosmo sits down like the freaking good boy he is, eyeing the ball and drooling a little bit. Seems like he’s trained well for this. From his seating position, Lance can’t throw really far, but he tries his best, and Kosmo seems to appreciate it, jumping up, almost catching the ball mid-air, and fetching it immediately. 

Kosmo drops it at Lance’s feet again, begging for more. And Lance just can’t help it. This time he stands up though, so he can actually throw a bit further, down towards the river where Kosmo can actually enjoy the game. 

„So,“ Lance grins in between throws, „you‘re not as horrible as your owner.“ He picks up the ball and plays with it for a second, watching Kosmo. „Good to know.“ 

It gives Lance a little hope that his hot neighbor might not be so fucking horrible as well. He‘s Shiro‘s brother after all, but that doesn‘t really have to mean anything. Some of the nicest women in the village are married to the most horrible assholes, and just because Keith is related to Shiro doesn‘t mean he‘s, you know, a decent fucking person. 

It only means that Shiro is kind of obliged to like him, at least a little bit. 

Though, Lance didn‘t hear Adam or Curtis outright complaining about him. And Hunk would surely tell him all the bad rumors about Keith-- if there were any. 

Lance gets back to Kosmo and the ball that’s getting nudged against his feet over and over again. Kosmo is unable to hide his excitement in his big body, even while he’s patiently sitting on the ground he looks like a pinata of joy, ready to explode. Lance grins as he throws the ball again, much further this time, and watches how Kosmo runs and runs and doesn‘t manage to catch up until the ball rolls into the water. 

He stops at the shore, tiptoeing on the spot while refusing to get inside. 

„Are you afraid of water, or what?“ Lance shouts at him. He hears a few whines as an answer, catches Kosmo‘s eyes who are practically begging him again, puppy gaze, and all that shit directed at him in full force. Another sigh and Lance relents. 

Can‘t really say ‚no‘ to all that cuteness.

Lance walks over until he’s standing next to Kosmo right at the riverbank, not really wanting to go in either. „Come on, it‘s just a bit of water,“ he tries to reason with Kosmo. 

You can imagine how well it’s working. 

Lance can see the ball slowly floating away. A minute or two and it’ll be too far for him to reach on foot, and he really doesn’t want to swim in the river in his clothes. Neither does he want to get up to that idiotic neighbor of his and explain why he had to buy his dog a new tennis ball...

„You are a big baby, aren‘t you?“ Lance murmurs, taking a seat on the ground to take off his shoes and socks, and after a second to think about it his shorts as well. He’s lucky if he doesn’t have to swim to get the ball, but it’s already much further than he could walk while keeping his clothes dry. 

And he doesn’t exactly have time to get his trunks today. 

The water is cold, but thankfully the late morning sun is already so strong that it’s not horrible. Quite refreshing even. Lance wades through the water, holding onto his empty dock so he doesn’t slip until he needs to let go and catch the ball that’s drifting away. In the end, he takes too long and does need to swim a few strides, but by now he doesn’t care. 

Meanwhile, Kosmo toddles over the dock while keeping a close eye on the ball in Lance’s hands. He looks like he’s contemplating, trying to gather some courage, whining like a baby until he finally, finally makes a decision--

\--to run off the dock and stand at the shore again. 

Lance can’t help but snort loudly. Such a big dog, and an even bigger scaredy-cat. 

As he gets back out of the water, he holds up the ball until Kosmo’s eyes zero on it before throwing it again, this time far, far away from the river. A new game picks up, but Lance rests on the dock this time, letting his feet dangle into the water. Blue and Red join him after a while, curling up against him until the sun manages to dry him completely. 

It’s nice. Really fucking nice.

Up until Lance raises his arm to throw the ball again, only to get interrupted by a loud voice drowning out the serenity of this scene. 

„Kosmo?“ Keith shouts, getting the immediate attention of both Kosmo and Red. They look at each other before hurrying off, towards Keith's fence where they crawl under it, through a hole they must have worked on for a little while. 

Keith catches them there, cursing at the hole until he meets Lance’s gaze. Until he sees Kosmo’s tennis ball in his hands. Until he simply raises an eyebrow at his pets before ushering them inside. 

And even from the distance, Lance can see that this eyebrow was raised very accusingly. 

Seems like his cat is not the only one befriending the enemy. 

But well, if Blue likes them, Lance likes them as well…


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gasp! Another fight! Hell yeah!

Like almost every day by now, Lance is back in his garden. Thankfully the weeds are taken care of for a while, and all he has to do is fix his water pump in the garden and get some fluids into his dying plants. 

The weather has been abnormally hot the past couple of days, and while his grass is far from dying, his hydrangeas are definitely not. 

They are close to dying. 

Almost dead even. 

And Lance can‘t let that happen.

He also can‘t let his water bill rise even higher. Feeding his garden from his tab is killing his wallet and his back at the same time. Just looking at a watering can makes him want to drown himself in the river by now, so he needs to fix that stupid garden pump and give him body a little rest. 

Either that or drowning. 

From his lovely spot in the shadow between his house and his garden shed, surrounded by a sleeping Blue and some tools to get the pump running again, he can hear Pidge‘s manic laughter on the other side of the fence. 

She mentioned something about setting up a smart home system for Shiro as soon as she gets back from her latest business trip, but Lance could swear this wouldn‘t be until next week. Seems like she managed to get out of that early again.

From his lovely spot he can also see a mop of black hair crossing Shiro‘s property until Lance‘s fence is poking into his chest. His face could be red from the sun, but the clear anger radiating from every inch of his body has Lance guessing that the sun is not his problem today. Or Lance‘s. 

„Did you mow my fucking lawn?“ 

Oh, yes.

Lance drops the screwdriver he just used on the floor and gets up in one motion. He‘s almost too giddy as he walks up to the fence, close enough to see even the tiniest strand of disheveled hair on Keith‘s head, but far enough to be able to run back into his house like a pussy if Keith decided to get violent. 

This thought doesn‘t stop Lance from putting up a grin though, voice low, teasing, taunting as he answers. „And what if I did?“

It pushes all the right buttons. 

Keith throws his hands into the air, half pointing at Lance, half at his garden, already utterly done with the topic even though they haven‘t really started yet. „You can‘t just go on other people‘s properties and mow their fucking lawn!“

And there are a thousand things Lance could say to diffuse the situation, but he simply doesn‘t want to. Instead— „Maybe if you would take proper care of it and not let it grow into a mullet like your hair, someone else wouldn‘t have to mow it! Ever thought of that?“

Keith falters. Lance smirks. 

„Did you just say I‘m growing a mullet on my lawn?“ It‘s barely a whisper. With every word, his eyebrows go lower and lower, until Keith‘s lovely frown is just as bad as Lance‘s hellbound attitude. „I‘m not even growing a mullet on my head!“

„Tell that to the hair police!“

Keith takes a step back from the fence, running a hand through his hair. „There is—“

Only now Lance sees that for once, his neighbor is not wearing a long-sleeved sweatshirt or long pants. He shouldn‘t be surprised, it‘s freaking hot outside after all, too hot for the emo-image Keith has been pulling off the past few weeks. 

„There is no fucking hair police!“ Keith screams, dragging Lance‘s attention away from his body and back to his face, but only for a split second. Keith isn‘t even looking at him anymore, facing the patio of his brother, where Shiro, Curtis, Adam and Pidge are sitting on a couple of chairs with huge cocktails in their hand and even huger grins on their faces. „What the fuck are you doing?“ 

„Enjoying the entertainment,“ Shiro shouts back, taking a long sip of his drink and slipping on some shades. 

Lance barely notices though, because his attention is set on Keith. Or rather the collection of black dots on his right arm, circling over his skin as if it was dancing with every motion of Keith‘s muscles. 

A tattoo. 

Lance spots a simple tattoo and his throat runs dry. 

„Your comebacks are shit, Keith,“ Adam remarks meanwhile, one of his very spare grins on his lips. He should know all about comebacks, being a lawyer and stuff, and Lance should be all hooked up on their opinions, being an asshole and stuff, but he‘s too busy trying to read the word he just spotted on the inside of Keith‘s wrist. 

Soul. 

Another tattoo. 

Makes Lance wonder just how many of those beautiful drawings Keith hides under his clothes. 

He bets it‘s a lot. 

He wants to see them all. 

Keith runs both hands through his hair this time, making his shirt rile up just a little bit, a tiny little bit, but still enough to let Lance get a glimpse of dark lines on pale skin playing right into the dip of his spine, and—

Oh, life is so fucking unfair. 

„Lance!“ Pidge‘s voice is like ice-cold water, pulling him back into this reality and far, far away from wherever his mind just wandered to. „You‘re scooping too low. Making fun of his hair is boring, talk about his clothes or something for a change.“

Yeah, Lance would love to talk about Keith‘s clothes, especially how to get them off his body. 

Since that‘s a no-go right now though… „How about his inability to maintain a garden?“ It‘s lame. Lance knows it‘s lame, but spare him. It‘s hot, he‘s hot, Keith‘s hot and all Lance really wants to do right now is drown himself in the river. 

Adam is „Nope, you used that in your last fight. Talk about how he can‘t cook.“

Thank our lord and savior, Adam. 

Lance steps forward, the fence digging into his chest this time. „Oh my god,“ he grins, almost too happy about the new info, „you don‘t even know how to cook? Pathetic!“

„He also BARF‘s his pets,“ Curtis chimes in, receiving a high five from both of his husbands. 

And oh, this right here, Lance decides, is a lot fucking better than any tattoo can ever be. „You make gourmet food for your furry friends,“ he concludes right into Keith’s face, „and don‘t know how to cook for yourself?“

„Stop giving him ideas,“ Keith shouts towards his „And just shut up!“ 

Lance violently shakes his head. „Never!“ He leans over the fence and grins at his neighbors. „Tell me more!“ he demands, thriving in the fact that they are on his side. 

The husbands look at each other. Really look at each other, going through a whole fucking conversation with their eyebrows only before nodding, turning back to them. 

One look at them and Lance knows those fuckheads are definitely not on his side. 

Curtis is the one to break the silence. „You know what, Keith?“ He raises his glass to point between the both of them, a grin eviler than anything Pidge can come up with on his lips. „Lance will steal cherries from your tree.“ 

Keith simply scoffs. „Tell me something new.“

Curtis thinks for a moment. „I’m sure he--“ He falters, giving Lance the chance to pray to whoever is listening that he already had enough of his cocktail to not say something stupid. “I’m sure he will steal your zucchini as well.“

Well.

That prayer didn’t work. 

Everyone on the patio is choking on their drinks, besides Curtis, who has the most fucking pleased smile on his face. Even Lance feels like the air got pushed out of his lungs, his brain coming to a full stop and taking a minute to reboot. 

Because--

Because that’s definitely not--

Not!!!

„I have my own zucchini!“ he shouts back, his voice high-pitched like a little girl and so breathless that Curtis’ stupid smile only grows. Pidge is cackling up beside him, and Adam and Shiro do nothing but shake their head in disappointment.

Gosh, what did Lance do to deserve this? 

What exactly, between the stupid fights he mostly started, and the bad-mouthing, and maybe the shit he already has planned for the future, did he do to deserve this? 

Keith, totally ignorant of Lance’s demise, whirls around and tries to stick his finger into Lance’s chest, which is only possible because Lance dropped his guard and stepped closer to the fence. „You--“ he hisses, „better don’t touch mine!“

„I don’t even want your zucchini!“

Because he doesn't. He really doesn’t! Lance does not want to have anything to do with Keith’s--

Fuck. 

Fuck fuck fuck. 

Lance is kind of speechless. Kind of not able to think about anything to say. Kind of helplessly looking around, trying to catch the eyes of Pidge, or Shiro or Adam, basically anyone but Curtis and Keith who are just out to fuck him over. Hard.

But the group is lost in their cocktails, and in their laughing, and the sly fucking mood they got going on over there. And no one is even thinking about stopping Curtis. 

„Keith,“ he continues, „Lance took care of your garden before you moved here.“ 

„Really?“ Keith just scoffs. „That‘s how you take care of something? It looks like you just let everything grow!“ He points towards his garden, the meadow that’s growing there, and the garden Lance very clearly did not take care of. 

He loves gardening, but he has enough work with his own yard already!

„I mowed a fucking way to your house so you can access it without getting infested with ticks,“ Lance dares to counter. And because he just doesn’t know where to stop: „you ungrateful shit.“ He watches how Keith’s face morphs through a couple of emotions again, sticking to clear rage through all of that. „Plus,“ he huffs, „it‘s a meadow, it‘s supposed to look like that!“ 

„Like no one takes care of it?“ 

Yeah, kind of. 

„Well,“ Lance scowls, „how about you take care of your fucking garden, and leave me to mow the fucking lawn towards the river, as all of us do?“ 

Keith raises his hands to his head, running them through his thick, black hair that does not evoke at least a dozen new things in Lance’s groin right now. „And what the hell is that supposed to mean?“

„Oh, yeah,“ Shiro chimes in this time, half of his cocktail already gone, „I forgot to tell you: We split work for the plot towards the river.“

„So you should probably thank Lance for taking care of your shit as well because you haven‘t done anything yet,“ Adam adds, his lawyer-grin, which Lance can’t help but describe as a mixture of arrogant, shit-eating, and winning, shining in full force. 

Keith actually stumbles over that. „You—“ His eyes move between Adam and Lance, brows rising for a second before they drop back into this go-to frown. He huffs, yet again, loud and heavy, and in the same motions, he turns and walks over to his own yard, through the little gate in the fence and over to his house. 

Only when Keith is already at his own patio, Lance realizes that he can’t just let him leave like that. „Hey, where is my ‚thank you‘?“

Keith holds up his hand, middle finger high up in the sky as he points towards Lance. „Thanks, fuckface!“

And as much as he hates that stomach-dropping, hate-inducing gesture, Lance can’t stop but grin. „Ah,“ he sighs, „so worth it.“ He shakes his head and nods towards the group that’s still laughing away on the patio. „Thank you, guys.“ 

„You‘re welcome,“ they shout back, raising their glass and downing most of it in one go. Lance leaves them be, not really in the mood to listen to more of their opinion of Keith’s and his relationship. 

Not that there is anything to have an opinion about, but he knows his friends. And he knows just how strong Curtis’ cocktails can be, and he doesn’t dare to let himself get invited to spill most of his secrets and the story of his life over one alcoholic beverage. 

Not again. 

With a sigh, Lance gets back to the stupid pump he still needs to fix. In the heat of their fight, he completely forgot about that, but the real world and all its wonderful disadvantages are coming back to him almost too quickly. 

Gosh, he really needs a drink.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't we all need that friend to get drunk with?

It’s a kind of day where Lance enjoys every waking minute. The weather is not too hot, his garden is not too much work, Blue is not being too annoying. Plus his guests, two couples with kids, are a delight, and the more time Lance spends with him, the more he wants to adopt them, hold them in his arms, and never let them leave. 

The reason behind that wish might be the fact that the family is constructed rather odd: two lesbians and two gays who know each other from work, and got along so well they decided they’ll get three kids as a group. It could also be the fact that they are just so freaking nice, and gay, and much, much better than the solitude Lance hasn’t been able to escape from the past few days. 

With Pidge being in the middle of a big project, and Hunk constantly trying to figure out where in his marriage to Shay he went wrong; with Curtis’ work sending him halfway across the country, and Adam staying in the city for a case, Lance has run out of quick options to talk to someone who doesn’t walk on four legs and is covered in fur.

He could go to Shiro. But Shiro tends to spend his free time with Keith, and Lance just doesn’t have the emotional energy for that kind of confrontation right now. 

He could also meet some other friends, like his bestie Allura, or her uncle, the local pub owner, but…

He’s just not in the mood. For anything but cocktails with his new friends. Maybe looking after the kids while the parents go for a walk in the beautiful landscape around his house. Maybe a couple more drinks and a nice book in the evening. 

Yeah, that he could do.

It’s half-past seven when his new, favorite guests grab a bite in one of the few good restaurants a couple of miles away. Lance recommended them a nice place near the river, something they could reach by boat, but chose to go by car instead. Saves them a little bit of time and the fear of drowning a kid or two by accident. 

Smart choice. 

While Lance sits in his sunbed, covered in a blanket that keeps away the chilly wind that sweeps over the river, sipping on a gin tonic he’s been craving for the whole day, one with ice and decoration and even a straw, he finally relaxes. 

As much as he enjoyed the day, an evening like this, with his social battery filled up and the buzz of one cocktail missing to reach his limit, is just the best. 

The. Best. 

Period. 

With a sigh Lance shuffles deeper into his blanket, ignoring Blue’s sulky chirp on his lap for getting disturbed in her slumber. He lets his eyes roam over his garden. A few insects try to get the last bit of sunshine and flowers before going to sleep. A few birds fly from tree to tree, either looking for food or to mate, and Lance couldn’t care less. 

He cares the least about the two figures at the other side of the river, walking along the path that the people of this village carved right next to the shore, in front of a couple of bungalows and neatly groomed gardens. 

He also cares the least about the mop of black hair, and another mop of black hair adorned with a hint of white, and he cares the very least about the reason why the brothers are at the other side of the river, on the trail that leads directly to the pub of the village, the only place they can get some decent food in walking distance. 

At least, that’s what Lance tells himself. 

He shouldn’t be surprised to find himself standing at the end of his dock, cocktail in his hand, grin on his face, excitement in his heart as he shouts to get their attention. „Hey, Shiro! Curtis asked me to make sure you don‘t starve!“

Shiro raises one hand to wave at him and uses his other to nudge Keith’s side as his brother brings out his famous scowl. Even with the river between them, it’s hard not to make out how Keith’s eyebrows drop, and how he presses his lips shut in order not to say anything. 

His bad mood might come from his general assholishness. It might as well be Lance’s fault though because he only started to seethe like this since Lance convinced Kosmo that a squeaky toy is just so much more fun than a boring tennis ball. 

„I have asparagus with brown butter if you want some,“ Lance offers next, as Shiro hasn’t replied yet, too focused on his brother. 

Shiro grins at something Keith said, shaking his head towards Lance next. „Did he say anything about Keith?“

Lance hasn’t to think about that twice. „I‘m pretty sure that he said that Keith should drown in the river.“

Maybe Curtis didn’t phrase it like that, but Lance is sure that he heard the implication between the lines when they talked over some coffee and cake about Curtis’ business trip this week. 

Keith’s scoff is loud enough to wash over the riverbed. „Fuck you!“

Before Lance or Keith can work themselves into another tirade, Shiro claps a hand on Keith’s shoulder and regards Lance with his most charming smile, something that he must have picked up from his work as a pilot. Definitely not from Adam. 

„We‘ll eat in the pub then,” he shouts over the river. „Keith doesn‘t know how to swim after all.“

It’s added so nonchalantly that Lance almost misses it, but-- 

Well, after weeks of living off those little details and stupid remarks, Lance can’t really tell himself that he’s ever able to ignore anything Keith-related ever again. 

That’s why he answers with a loud gasp, just as loud as Keith’s as he realizes what his brother shouted into the world. 

„Shiro!“ He glances over to Lance, his frown growing five notches, just like Lance’s grin. Keith lowers his voice to a whisper, something Lance sadly can’t make out over the river. He can only imagine the rant Keith’s throwing himself into, something along the lines of ‘how dare you to betray me like this, brother?’ or ‘he didn’t need to know that!’. 

It’s funny nevertheless. 

Especially when Shiro just laughs loudly before proclaiming: „Who else is going to save you when you fall into the river, hm?“

Well, definitely not Lance. 

This time Keith really seems done with the world, so instead of answering his brother, he just stomps along the path towards the pub, Shiro following close behind him. Lucky for Keith, it’s not that far from where they are standing. Bad for him is that Lance can easily walk and keep up with them for half of the way, at least until the bushes at the end of Keith’s property keep him from going further. 

And who is Lance to pass up on this opportunity?

„Oh, you will never hear the end of this!“ Because Lance will make sure of that. Not being able to swim? Just like his dog? Probably like his cat as well? Gosh, the possibilities! Lance feels a bit blinded by the delight that is running through his veins. Makes him a bit frightened as well because he never felt anything like that. Not even the best teasing against his siblings got him that excited, and that means something. 

Lance doesn’t have time to really think about that though. Or energy. Or the mental and emotional capability. Because as much time as he has, he’s still on a tight schedule. The border of their joined plot is coming closer, and with the speed, Keith is trying to run off, it’s only a minute until he passes the slight curve of the river and disappears into the pub that’s hidden behind a couple of trees and some boats that anchor there for the night. 

Though, he can’t really think of anything to say either. Lance needs to treat the precious, new information about his neighbor lightly, not as he did with the fact that Keith can’t cook, or that he sucks at gardening. 

So, Lance decides to say nothing. 

Which is great, because it still manages to piss Keith off. „Go choke on your asparagus!“

Shiro chuckles. „Asparagus, really? You know what that looks like, right?“ 

Lance, for once, is quite thankful that he himself spends a lot of time at the pub. He likes Coran after all, and he likes his cold beer and hot meals. And he likes that Allura, who just happens to be Coran’s goddaughter, gets lots of free drinks at his pub whenever she visits the village. 

That’s how Lance knows just exactly how long Shiro and Keith will be at the pub. Two beers each, maybe three, some dinner, maybe even dessert. That combined with the fact that it has and will be sunny throughout the whole month, and that the pub’s dock is completely overfilled with boats, and therefore paying customers, tells Lance that they’ll be gone for at least two hours. 

Considering he only needs like twenty minutes, he has plenty of time. 

For what? 

Oh. 

Oh.

As soon as Shiro and Keith are out of sight, Lance turns on his heels and hurries back to his house. He grabs his garden gloves, a little shovel, and the bucket with two dozen tansies he raised in a nice, sunny but hidden corner of his property for the past two weeks. 

Tansies. Yes. The ones from Hunk’s place. The declaration of war. Lance’s uttermost honest feelings. 

The level of pity Lance hadn’t reached yet. But he’s so ready to crush that line.

Breaking into Keith’s yard is easy since the lock at his gate towards the river doesn’t work. And it’s not like Lance is breaking in for the first time. He did take care of the garden, after all, mowing like… twice. Plus, planting some nice flowers totally defends breaking in, even if the flowers are a petty hate message, something Keith will most definitely not get, because he’s stupid, and doesn’t even know what zucchini is, and because he’s stupid. 

While Lance is looking for the perfect place to plant the tansies, he can’t help but notice Kosmo and Red staring through one of the windows at him. Poor things are locked up in the house while their owner goes to have some nice dinner. He goes up to the house, ignoring the dark wood on the walls that give him chills and the thousands of flower pots Keith hasn’t bothered to clean up yet and talks to Kosmo through the window. He gets a few barks as a response, revels in the love the dog is showing him, before getting back to work. 

Lance decides that the place right in front of Keith’s porch is just the perfect place for the flowers. 

In less than ten minutes the deed is done. Lance even goes as far as watering Keith’s new plants. Just another thing to put on the list of ‘nice things Lance does for his neighbors’. 

Yeah. 

Lance is just so fucking nice. 

He almost feels a little bit of regret as he’s finished. Maybe he realizes that he’s going too far? Maybe he knows that those hurtful feelings he hoards towards his neighbor are nothing to be proud of? Maybe he finally gets that bullying the brother of his friend, the person that lives close to you, someone that has not really done much to deserve Lance’s pettiness should get this kind of treatment? Maybe Lance just knows that those flowers are way too good for his neighbor, and the fact that he spent money on something that won’t even get recognized should bother him more than it actually does. 

Lance simply ignores all that. 

Instead, he packs up his shovel and the bucket and stomps over to his own house, ready to drown whatever feelings are left in his system out with some well-deserved Pina Colada.   
Though, that might need to wait a second. As soon as Lance rounds the fence that divides his and Shiro’s property, he spots Curtis sitting on his porch. Curtis, who has his arms wrapped around himself, who is looking at the river as if he’s contemplating going for a dip, whose cheeks are wet and eyes are red; Curtis, who is obviously not having as good a time as Lance right now. 

„Curtis?“ Lance murmurs as he’s finally close enough to take in the whole man-slash-puppy that is huddled on his porch. „I thought you were on a work trip?“

Curtis scoffs. 

Curtis. Puppy-face, puppy-smile, puppy-personality, puppy-literally-fucking-everything. Scoffs. 

And then he looks at Lance, with his red-rimmed eyes and his wet cheeks and his puppy gaze and a wry smile that tells him that something is really, really not right.

„Yeah, uhm-“

Yeah.

Okay. 

„You’re not going to eat with Shiro and Keith...“ Lance remarks now, pointing in the vague direction of the pub far, far behind him. 

Curtis follows with his eyes, biting his lip for a split second before he shakes his head and lets out a deep sigh. „I wasn’t in the mood to go out. I’m still not--“ 

Yeah, obviously. With the whole crying-thing going on, Lance wouldn’t be in the mood to go to the pub either.

„Adam’s out,“ Curtis explains, „and I had a fight with Shiro, and I said some stupid things, and then he left, and I saw him acting like nothing happened and I… I don’t really know...“

Lance sits down on the porch next to him, placing a hand on Curtis' shoulder. „Okay… Do you want to talk about it?“ 

He watches how Curtis takes a minute to think before shaking his head again.

„Do you-“ Lance doesn’t really know what to say. Or to offer. When he gets sad he talks about it with Hunk. Or Allura. And when there is no one or nothing to talk about… well then he just… „Do you want to, like, get super drunk and not talk about it?“

„Yeah, I really want that,“ Curtis huffs, a smile playing on his lips. Something Lance did not expect but is glad to see on his friend. 

„Okay. Come on.“ Lance gets up from his porch and pulls Curtis with him, into the warmth of his home. 

Time to make this puppy forget some of his worries.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet: The pub. 
> 
> The heart of every village. That, or the sport field. Let's be honest though, it's the pub.

Coran’s pub is one of the nicest places where you get an almost unlimited amount of normal and not-so-normal alcoholic beverages, and occasionally food as well, in a twenty-kilometer radius around Lance’s house. 

Other places are nice too, but they don’t dare to serve as much as Coran does. Mainly because they are actual restaurants, not pubs, or because the owners don’t know each and every patron of the pub like Coran does, or because they are afraid that someone drunk will fall into the river and drown again. 

Needless to say: Coran’s pub is always full. During the day he tends to the usual addicts of the village, and towards the night, when the tourists vanish on their boats or the few rooms Coran offers himself, he tends to the rest of the village that are not less addicted, but at least able to hold a daytime job. 

Coran’s pub is a safe haven in this village. 

His eccentric, yet weirdly lovable personality manages to lift people up who are too down to see the light, and to calm the ones that are too hyped up about something more or less important going on in their lives. 

Coran’s pub is the place people go to when they are happy and want to celebrate, and when they are sad and need to grieve in some company. 

Coran’s pub is the only place Lance does not want to start a fight with Keith. Even if he’s not really in the mood to participate in any of the loud conversations around him. Even if he actually should, because at least two spouses ignore their other spouses, and Adam and Pidge are literally the two worst people to keep the awkward silence at bay. 

Even after a couple of toilet breaks the groups have switched to Curtis, Shay, and Pidge on one side, and Adam, Shiro, and Hunk on the other, which leads to a lot more talking, joking, and even some laughing. Even if Keith is pressed awkwardly against Lance’s side, frowning into his drink like it killed his dog or something, and overall not having the good time he should have. 

All while ignoring the stares of the rest of the patrons around him. 

And as much as Lance doesn’t want to be a prying ass today, or an ass in general, something about Keith just makes him flush down a constant stream of ‘he can’t help it’. He can’t help being an ass, he can’t help sticking his nose into something he shouldn’t stick his nose into, he can’t help being invested. 

So, he finishes his beer, clunks the glass on the table, and shuffles around to face Mr. Grimface. „What did you do to them?“

He gets ignored at first. Needs to pinch Keith’s side to even get a reaction out of him, even if the only thing he gets is a death-glare that weirdly doesn’t bother Lance as much as it should. He knows that Keith won’t kill him, at least while his brother is around. 

Maybe later, when there are no witnesses, but for now Lance has free reign. 

He nods towards the bar, where three hunched figures in ugly flannel shirts are soaking up their beer with their stupid frowns. Kind of like Keith, but less emo. The rest of the patrons here are shooting weird glances at their table as well, something that didn’t happen since Shiro beat up two homophobes with his metal arm. 

Keith gives him one of his pouty looks, weirdly offended by the suggestion. „Why do you think it‘s me who did something? I didn‘t do anything.“ 

Yeah, sure. As if Keith suddenly grew into a nice person. Sure. 

Lance rolls his eyes, considering if he actually wants to be a prying ass after all, and decides that since he’s probably already getting killed by Keith when he catches him alone, might as well make it worth it.

„Well, I don’t believe you. Like,“ he makes a deal to swish his hand around, „at all. You must have done something to tip them off.“

„I literally didn‘t do anything.“ Keith sighs. Kind of defeated. Not pissed-- or well, not as pissed as he should be with Lance all up in his comfort zone. Just tired, a bit confused maybe even. Though that changes in a split of a second as a thought seem to cross his mind, and his frown is back on full force as he turns towards Lance. „Did you--“

„Me?“ Lance interrupts him with a scoff. „I would never--“

Nevermind that he definitely thought about it, but thinking of screwing up the reputation of your neighbor and actually doing it are two different things. Lance might screw up Keith’s garden, maybe the loyalty of his pets if he gets a couple more weeks, and-- well, a lot of different things that Lance will not think about this close to Keith--

But he didn’t touch his reputation. Yet. 

„I would never,“ he therefore repeats, which riles Keith up yet again. 

„You--“ he starts, way too loud. A scared glance to his side tells him that literally, no one around them is paying them any mind, even if Keith’s little outburst of a single word was quite suspicious. Keith clears his throat and tries it again, much quieter this time. „You literally planted a fucking hate-message in front of my porch.“ 

Well, Lance can’t say he didn’t.

He also can’t say that he’s not impressed. Because he is. Really impressed. 

Also a bit scared. His nemesis understood his declaration of war, and he doesn’t know where to go from there. 

Keith nips on his beer, dragging his eyes back on the old, wooden table that has more scratches and remnants of food than actual varnish on it, and plays with the coaster before mumbling, „Maybe they know I‘m gay.“

And that’s just plain out stupid. 

Virtual information, for a reason Lance can’t quite grasp yet, but still fucking stupid. 

And Lance tells Keith as much. 

„They are not homophobic, idiot.“ He watches how Keith’s eyebrow twitch over the insult before adding: „At least not openly. I‘m bi and they all like me.“

Keith does not look convinced at all. „That‘s not the same.“ 

Yeah, okay. Maybe it isn’t. But somehow it is. Because the people know about Lance, and his background, and his business, and his small obsession with his garden and they still don’t avoid him. He’s not friends with everyone in this room, sure, but he’s also not getting hate messages planted in front of his porch either. 

Not for owning a nice house and not for being bi either. 

Plus-

Lance points behind him, then behind Keith. „Shiro, Adam, and Curtis are literally the gayest people in the radius of, like, thirty miles, and they are poly. You see them getting stared at?“ 

Again, not entirely true. They do get stared at, but only because all three of them are exceptionally hot, and have interesting jobs, and are literally one of the nicest families in the village, and if you are on their good side you get invited to their annual Barbeque where Curtis grills the best spareribs you’ll ever eat in your life. 

They don’t get stared at for being gay, and neither for being poly. 

Though, Keith still doesn’t look convinced. The frown won’t leave his face, and he goes back to staring at his beer, deep in thoughts. 

There is only one thing Lance can say now-- well, two if he goes back to insulting Keith’s intelligence, but he’s walking on the path of peace right now, and for once he doesn’t want to spoil that. He kind of feels obliged to make Keith feel welcome in this village as well, since he wants to be the only one who gives him a hard time. 

The honorary asshole of the village, if he may say so. 

His last resort is something that has never not worked before. At least in this pub. He points towards the extrovert guy behind the large bar in the far corner of the pub. The owner of this place, always visible with his bright orange hair, his big mustache, and the energy one can literally see radiating from him. 

Lance leans a bit closer to Keith, takes a sip of his drink, makes sure he has his neighbors’ attention. „Coran is gay too, so...“

And Keith’s frown drops. He doesn’t look surprised, but rather like the coin dropped and he finally, finally understands how this village works. Because most of this village will meet in this pub at least once a week. This pub is one of the only establishments here, since the village doesn’t even have a church, a school, or even a simple bakery. 

This village has a couple of gay people, a soccer field, and a pub. 

And whoever hurts the host gets hanged. 

That’s how it works. Not only in this village, but in most others as well. And even in big cities sometimes. And apparently also in the place Keith used to live before. 

„Okay, I get it,“ Keith huffs. His shoulders dropped a little bit, and he seems a lot more relaxed than before. Seems like the info went through his thick skull. „I still didn‘t do anything though.“

Yeah, Lance has an answer to that. „It‘s probably because you are an outsider.“

„And how do I become an insider?“

Oh. 

Oh, no. He didn’t. 

Lance eyes Keith for a second. Trying to figure out if he talked to himself, or if he really just asked Lance for help. Indirectly, of course. Lance knows that Keith would never stoop so low and directly ask Lance if he could help him out. 

But he kind of did. 

With the way he’s looking at Lance now, no frown, no mean face, not even the slightest hint of anger in his body, Lance realizes that Keith is actually on the path of peace with him. Trying to not be an asshole, since Lance showed some kind of civility today. 

And, gosh--

Lance just has to help him. 

He just has to. 

„Easy.“ Lance downs his drink in one go. „Watch this.“ He stands up, the empty glass in his hand raised to the ceiling as he clears his throat and gets the attention of the people in the pub. „Hey, everyone.“ Thirty-something, maybe even more eyes land on him, the strongest gaze still coming from Keith, giving Lance the last push he needs to shout with a grin. „The next round is on our newbie, Keith.“ 

Keith’s ‘wait, what?’ gets drowned out in the cheers of the patrons, and the matching grin on Coran’s face at the other end of the room. The frown is back on Keith’s face as Lance turns towards him. 

„Everyone, say ‚thank you, Keith‘!“

The pub cheers. 

Keith stays quiet. 

And Lance just grins away. 

After everyone receives their share of beer and smiles happily into their drink, the attention of the table is set on Keith. A few questioning glances, Adam straight out asking Keith if he’s stupid or something, throwing a round for the whole pub, all completed by Keith’s death glare. 

Though, a couple of patrons walk up to their table and thank Keith for the drink as well. A few even stay a few minutes to have a chat with him. Some even offer to repay him, which he gracefully declines. Turning Lance’s move to his favor. 

At the end of the next hour, he’s one of the favorite people in this pub. Only topped by Curtis and Coran, though winning against them will probably make you poor or in need of a new liver. 

And even if Keith is soaking this new atmosphere up, he still whispers a ‘fuck you’ in Lance’s direction when their eyes meet again. 

Though, Lance can only huff in amusement. „You‘re welcome, mullet.“


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a sneak peek for the NSFW chapter 10 that will not appear on Ao3 or Instagram. 
> 
> But it will be available, one day.

The round Keith not-so willingly paid for the pub should have been Lance’s last drink. 

Should have. 

But the evening is too nice to just stop and go home. Coran can be very convincing as well. And Keith’s relaxed presence, loosened up from the alcohol and the one too many stupid quips from Shiro that actually made him laugh and Lance’s mind swirl at the sound…

Anyway. 

Lance is a bit tipsy. He can admit that much. 

He can also admit that all the people around him can be too much for someone tipsy at times. Even if that tipsy person is usually a social butterfly in Coran’s pub. 

With the excuse pointed towards the toilet, Lance sneaks away from the table towards the back of the pub. Behind the bar is a long hallway that leads towards the loo, an underground bowling alley and the backdoor of the pub. 

Lance goes for the last. 

The muggy air hits him like a brick as he steps outside. He takes a deep breath, steadies himself against the brick wall while aiming for the bench a few steps further, hidden behind a couple of rose bushes Coran prides himself on. He flops on the bench as soon as he feels the old wood touch the back of his calves, takes another deep breath and lets his eyes adjust to the complete darkness in this backyard. 

The noise of the people almost silences out completely with the door shut, and only now Lance realizes just how overwhelmed he felt there for a second. He loves spending time at Coran’s, don’t get him wrong. But a nice group of four to eight people are much more preferable to him than a whole pub. 

The door of the pub opens and closes again, and Lance groans. Five minutes alone, is that too much to ask for? 

The person stumbles into the backyard, looking around for a few seconds until they spot Lance and get closer. Only when he’s right beside him, Lance can make out Keith’s silhouette. He shuffles to the side, giving Keith the clear invite to sit down as well. 

Anyone else would have gotten sent away, but Lance doesn’t feel like being mean to Keith right now. 

He actually feels like his presence, wavering yet steady, calm yet so energetic, is exactly what he needs right now to not bend over the armrest and die on the spot. Or do something even more embarrassing.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Comments mean the world to me, so please tell me what you think about this fic.
> 
> Follow my [ Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/wertdifferenz.art/) for regular updates, more background info on the story and the occasional cat picture!


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